


we should party on it

by beanpod



Series: vegas verse [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: (but there's sober sex too), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Grinding, Hand Jobs, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Woke Up Married, married in vegas, sex under the influence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-21 08:51:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11354037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beanpod/pseuds/beanpod
Summary: there's no way kyungsoo can throw, "so, listen, we were so fucking wasted last night we thought getting married would be a good idea and i don't know whether you're mister do or i'm mister park, but fuck me if it matters, it was quite a nice wedding and everyone in the chapel told us we were the best looking couple there, okay, and then you threw the bouquet at the elvis impersonator, brought me to your room, went down on me like a man on a mission, and promised to get me a proper ring in the morning while i jerked you off," over his shoulder.which is, of course, what actually happens.





	we should party on it

"i think," chanyeol says around a piece of lime, words mushed together, "i think i'm very drunk."

baekhyun snorts behind his shot of vodka and yixing honest to god cahoots when they announce the next queen's name and the show she's putting up. kyungsoo goes back to his beer—at least what's left of it—and elbows jongdae and his curious expression in the ribs. "what's with you?"

jongdae shrugs. "ever wondered what it would feel like to wear a corset?"

yixing slams his fists on the table. "i dare you!" he shouts.

jongdae jumps to his feet, looking determined. before he leaves, though, he pours two shots for each and makes them all drink, the first toast to them, and the second one to his "motherfucking feet, 'cause i'm about to get into ten inch heels, fuckers."

it's all a blur after that. figures, really.

-

chanyeol groans from the bathroom. he's been retching for fifteen minutes and kyungsoo hasn't even broken the news to him yet. it's all looking very promising.

he stares at the gold band in his left ring finger and sort of... stays there. sitting at the bed with the sheets wrapped around his waist while trying really, really hard not to barf all over himself.

the worst part about this? kyungsoo _remembers_. not all of it, granted, but some of it. like when he leaned in close to chanyeol and said—slurred, technically, because mixing tequila and beer is work from the devil—that whatever happened in vegas stayed in vegas and stayed for good because no one here knew enough korean to rat them out. he remembers chanyeol laughing, eyes crinkled and shiny with alcohol, and remembers chanyeol reaching out to put his thumb on kyungsoo's lower lip and saying, "might as well."

he remembers the kissing. remembers asking "you know what'd make a _great_ anecdote?" and chanyeol cutting him off with a breathy, "hey, marry me," his hands still cupping kyungsoo's face almost tenderly.

it was all very romantic.

in the bathroom, chanyeol has started cursing in japanese and demanding to know what the fuck happened last night and why the fuck are his insides trying to kill him this way. he's being very dramatic, kyungsoo thinks.

he sighs and drops back onto the pillows—they smell like chanyeol and him, and although they didn't even have sex (at least not in the way that counts?), kyungsoo feels a pang in his stomach, because it's something completely new, everything about this is new and uncharted territory. not the feelings—those are as old as the sun, kyungsoo isn't kidding here—but this is a whole can of worms he didn't even ask to put his name on. kyungsoo's never been good at dealing—with anything, really—especially on an empty stomach.

when the nausea hits him he wonders if puking all over chanyeol counts as a wedding gift.

kyungsoo groans. this is going to kill his mother. and then it's going to kill everyone else _with laughter_ because getting married in las vegas to chanyeol is probably the best thing to laugh at over pancakes and bacon and american beer.

fuck las vegas, honestly.

-

by the time chanyeol makes it out of the bathroom, kyungsoo is sitting by the side of the bed, elbows on his thighs as he tries to breathe in through his nose and avoid giving himself a coronary with all this worrying. he'd found his boxers under the dining table, thankfully clean, and he'd tossed chanyeol's through a crack in the door when he'd demanded to know why he was naked.

kyungsoo handed the pants silently and hauled ass out of the bathroom before chanyeol could either ask more questions or throw up all over kyungsoo.

"i've never puked so much in my life," chanyeol grumbles as he slowly comes to sit by the other side of the bed. kyungsoo catches it on the mirror, the sick shade of his skin and the thin layer of sweat at his temples and the top of his shoulders. he's fucking shirtless and kyungsoo _cannot_ , because even right now he looks _impossible_ and like the best thing kyungsoo's seen all week and all he wants is to tuck him into bed and feed him chicken soup with thick noodles, just the way he knows chanyeol likes.

kyungsoo feels a bit sick himself, now.

"got a feeling you're not done throwing up," he says, mostly to himself, but the alcohol makes perceptions all wonky and somehow his voice carries across the bed and chanyeol barely tilts his head and grunts in acknowledgement, muttering,

"what're y'talkin'bout?"

there's no easy way to break it to him. there's no sugarcoating it. kyungsoo can't turn around and say, "man, guess who knocked down a vending machine _again_ ," and then pat chanyeol's knee and tell him not to worry because management will deal with it, not with something like this.

there's no way kyungsoo can throw, "so, listen, we were so fucking wasted last night we thought getting married would be a good idea and i don't know whether you're mister do or i'm mister park, but fuck me if it matters, it was quite a nice wedding and everyone in the chapel told us we were the best looking couple there, okay, and then you threw the bouquet at the elvis impersonator, brought me to your room, went down on me like a man on a mission, and promised to get me a proper ring in the morning while i jerked you off," over his shoulder.

which is, of course, what actually happens.

-

chanyeol spends the next fifteen minutes hugging the toilet but thankfully not throwing up anymore. kyungsoo's standing by the en-suite door, worrying himself sick because that much barfing is not healthy on anyone and he can't let chanyeol die _in vegas_ and while still married to each other. he wouldn't hear the end of it.

"do you want me to bring you some water?" kyungsoo's eighty percent sure he's gonna have to force it down chanyeol's throat while in that state but it doesn't hurt to ask. he almost wants to say, "hey, in sickness and in health, right?" but he doesn't think chanyeol might appreciate it.

he barely shakes his head. "no, i'm fine." he doesn't sound it. he doesn't look it, either. he's green-ish. kyungsoo is _worried_.

"listen," he tries—again, because the first two times he tried to talk about it chanyeol dry heaved, the asshole—crossing his arms over his chest. "the drunken marriage aside, you need to get something in you, okay? at least drink some water."

kyungsoo doesn't miss the way chanyeol flinches at the word _marriage_ but he's too hangover himself to deal with it. instead, he reaches for the glass by the tap and fills it with water and then slowly hands it over to chanyeol, who barely sits up to get it before downing it in two big gulps. he's still wearing the ring, too, kyungsoo notices, and doesn't know what to make of it.

chanyeol coughs. "how—" he starts as he lets the glass hang limply from his hand, "how did we even—what even— _how?_ "

kyungsoo sighs. it doesn't look like hearing it was chanyeol's own idea would sit nicely with him. "we were drunk," is all he says.

just then, there's a knock on the door and then baekhyun's bursting in and going, "holy shit, chanyeol, why did the front desk just send a _congratulations on your wedding!_ breakfast platter to your room? i told them no one got married but they _insisted_ someone did—oh, hey, kyungsoo, you up already?"

"oh, fuck," chanyeol says from around his mouthful of porcelain, "i traded rooms with baekhyun last night—for the pool view. no wonder i couldn’t find my stuff."

kyungsoo sighs and slides down the doorframe to sit on the floor.

"we're fucked," he says.

baekhyun just gapes.

-

"i can't believe you didn't ask me to be your best-man," baekhyun says from the bed. he's munching on overpriced peanuts and sipping equally overpriced cherry coke. kyungsoo almost wants him to choke, because then he wouldn't be throwing these comments while the wound is still a gaping, bloody hole in both kyungsoo's and chanyeol's minds.

the bathroom door is firmly shut and kyungsoo is sure chanyeol is either crying or trying to drown himself in the tub. honestly? kyungsoo can't keep up with that side of the drama.

he throws a glare in baekhyun's direction. "stop being an asshole and get the guys in here. we need to fix this. i also need to find my bags—have you heard from seunghyun?"

baekhyun leaves the room with a, "i've no idea what you wanna get fixed, it's not like you haven't been married for years already, i mean, you bicker like an old couple and it's disgustingly cute," thrown over his shoulder and a bar of toblerone in his hand.

kyungsoo hates everything.

-

baekhyun doesn't come back but he texts _there was a complication with jongdae and yixing and their drag queen friends and by complication i mean NO ONE CAN FIND THEM so we'll deal w your marriage later will keep you posted try not to kill each other but just in case i love you both and i'm keeping your clothes._

kyungsoo stares at the message for ten full seconds and then sits heavily back on the bed.

he hasn't showered yet, doesn't know where his suitcases are—he's pretty sure he was supposed to room with jongin last night but the fucker isn't answering either—he stinks of tequila and beer and guacamole (and sex, too, but he isn't gonna go there right now or so help him) and he can't take a fucking shower because fucking chanyeol isn't done fucking moping in the bathroom.

that's it. kyungsoo's up to _here_ with the moping; it's not like he's thrilled about this but at least he's not acting like a fucking child over it. sure, they're going to get the scolding of their lives and possibly their mothers will get involved and there will be disappointment all around, but they've gone through worse and came out relatively unscathed. this is nothing a very well drafted contract and hefty check won't fix.

as if summoned by dark magic, seunghyun texts him. _don't leave the room, your bags are on the way. baekhyun told me what happened. i fucking hate y'all, i don't get paid enough for this shit. don't leave the room, i mean it._

kyungsoo clutches his phone to his chest and sighs loudly and nearly brains himself with a lamp when there's a knock on the door. a couple of bags—one of which he recognizes as his own—are rolled in by a short, smiley guy, and when kyungsoo tries to tip him, he says it's already been taken care of. at least that's what kyungsoo gathers with his english skills. after the guy leaves, he stands in the middle of the room and stares at his suitcase for fifteen seconds until noise in the bathroom brings him back to his current situation.

he knocks on the bathroom door. loudly. "i need to take a shower, are you done?"

"no," chanyeol answers quickly, and something clatters to the floor in there, probably his sanity, jesus fuck, kyungsoo's too tired and filthy to care. "i'm not done yet, don't come in."

"well, hurry the fuck up, will you."

"don't tell me what to do!"

"just hurry the fuck up, i need to take a leak and i'd rather not do it all over your stuff. someone just dropped your bag in and the manager texted, said we are not to leave the room. now, are you _done_ in there?"

just like that, the door opens a crack and chanyeol pokes his head out. it's all kyungsoo needs to shoulder his way in and kick the bastard out, who's all steamy and pink from his shower, a towel wrapped around his waist.

kyungsoo swallows and manages to remember to narrow his eyes a little as he closes the door in chanyeol's face. he very determinedly doesn't think about the hickey next to chanyeol's navel as he strips and turns the water to scalding hot.

truth is, he doesn't get paid enough for this, either.

-

no one comes into their room.

like, at all.

like, for all intents and purposes, chanyeol and kyungsoo getting married isn't the cherry on top of the shit-cake that has been the past twenty four hours. that says a lot about this whole trip, honestly. this is why they don't do _actual_ world tours; they can't be trusted enough to behave.

they're sitting at different corners of the suite, chanyeol on the bed (already clean, thanks to the marvelous and very quiet and very well tipped housekeeping service) and kyungsoo by the small dining table while he scrolls through the search results for 'i got drunkenly married in las vegas – what do i do now'. unsurprisingly, the internet is not very helpful and it all varies from "talk to your partner – maybe you _are_ supposed to be married!" and, "if you need police help click _here_ and _here_."

kyungsoo is sixty percent tempted. and growing.

they haven't talked except for the stray "i'm going to order something to eat," and the, "get an aspirin, too, thanks."

so, all in all, they haven't really addressed the whole thing.

honestly? kyungsoo isn't surprised. maybe once, eons ago, they would've laughed about it. kyungsoo's not so sure now. he's slipped the ring off his finger, thin and unassuming, has left it to sit quietly—and ominously—on top of the table, and kyungsoo tries really hard not to stare at it and wince but fails. hard.

across the room chanyeol's doing something on his phone and all kyungsoo can focus on is the golden glint of his own ring every time his hand moves.

kyungsoo cannot _deal_.

he's cranky and antsy by the time their meal finally arrives and it takes a lot of effort not to just tell chanyeol to sit with him so he can steal some of his fries. (kyungsoo also wants to tell him to put on a goddamn shirt because the more kyungsoo sobers the more hickeys he can spot and that's just so not fucking ideal, is chanyeol actively trying to _kill_ kyungsoo out of this marriage? wouldn't put it past him.)

instead, he lets chanyeol grab his food and make it back to the bed, and he gets his own to eat at the table. he's shoving a carrot stick into his mouth when there's a high-pitched wail from across the room. when he looks up, chanyeol's buried his face in his hands.

the ring is all kyungsoo can see, what the fuck.

"oh, god, it's all coming back to me—i asked you, didn't i? _i_ asked _you_ to marry me."

kyungsoo chews slowly, still looking at chanyeol's slumped form. "yes," he says, and chanyeol makes another pained noise.

if it'd been the other way around, kyungsoo thinks, he'd be demanding an explanation. he'd ask, _why didn't you say no, why didn't you stop this_ , he'd bring the whole hotel—the whole _city_ down looking for answers and explanations, but secretly, he's glad chanyeol doesn't and instead opts to try and choke himself with his fries.

small victories.

-

by the time baekhyun comes back, chanyeol has finally quit the pity party and done productive things like open his bag and get a damn shirt. he's still at the bed, tapping anxiously on his phone— has been at it for the better part of an hour now— occasionally letting out small frustrated sounds, and kyungsoo wants to ask him to please, _stop_ , because there's only so much he can put up with right now and he's already done his research, and it's not looking very promising.

really, a total shit-fest.

"ah, you guys are still alive, i see," baekhyun says, fake-sweet, and joins kyungsoo at the table. his face is all pink, probably from being out in the sun rather than stuck in this hotel room. "we've been looking for yixing and jongdae all day, still can't find the fuckers."

"lucky them," kyungsoo mumbles.

baekhyun throws him a nasty glare. "junmyeon thinks they're passed out somewhere and that they'll come to us when they're up. at least yixing's phone is alive, all calls and messages get through." kyungsoo internally lets out a sigh of relief. baekhyun taps his fingers on the table, "how are things going here?"

"still pretty married," chanyeol groans, and for the first time in hours, he sounds more alive than 'just raised from the dead'. kyungsoo tries not to stare too hard lest he scares him back into his moping state. "shouldn't we be trying to do something?" he directs the last part at kyungsoo, who just shrugs.

"i think we should wait for seunghyun to get here, he's gonna fling himself off a balcony if we fuck it up again."

baekhyun nods sagely. "he would. at lunch today he seemed rather fond of his steak knife."

"we can't just sit here and do nothing," chanyeol groans.

"well you can continue the puke-fest if you want, it was kinda fun to witness." kyungsoo pretends to be shocked when chanyeol flips him the bird.

"you two are _so_ cute," baekhyun giggles, and chanyeol throws a pillow at him, which unsurprisingly lands on kyungsoo instead.

"watch it," he spits, and throws it back on the bed. he turns to baekhyun, finger raised. "you, shut the fuck up or get out."

"they gave you a receipt, though, didn't they?" baekhyun asks, completely ignoring kyungsoo. "like, when you signed the thingy, they must've given you something. a certificate, a voucher, a bumper-sticker, something."

kyungsoo narrows his eyes at him. "a bumper-sticker? really?"

baekhyun shrugs. "america is weird, i don't know what to tell you."

"i think they gave us a certificate, yeah, i—" chanyeol clears his throat pointedly, and when kyungsoo looks at him, he quickly looks away.

"what," he asks. _what now for fuck's sake_ , is what he means.

"i…" chanyeol falters again, scratches at the bridge of his nose with his left hand and the ring is _right there_ for god and baekhyun to see. he's looking at his toes and kyungsoo would punch him for stalling, except the whole picture is oddly cute from where he's sitting. "i think i stuffed it down the right back-pocket. of your pants."

kyungsoo's mouth goes dry and baekhyun honest to god falls off the chair laughing.

-

it's chanyeol the one that kicks baekhyun out after five minutes of straight-up mad-cackling, so by the time they're alone again—kyungsoo tries very hard to play this cool, because it doesn't mean anything, not at all, _cool like a fucking cucumber, do kyungsoo, you've got this_ —kyungsoo's already collected the pants he wore last night and searched through the pockets.

it's the most unassuming piece of paper, the wedding certificate. kyungsoo stares at its wrinkled form and almost wants to laugh. he doesn't, though, and instead turns around to show it to chanyeol.

chanyeol, who's sitting at the edge of the bed, head in his hands, the glint of his ring hidden a little where his fingers are buried in his hair.

kyungsoo clears his throat. "found it," he says. chanyeol doesn't look up— doesn't even move from his slumped position, and it makes kyungsoo antsy. "what is it now?" he asks, perhaps a bit too harshly, a bit too loud.

"nothing," chanyeol mutters, mostly to himself, and then straightens up. color has returned to his face, his cheeks rosy and his lips pink and it takes a herculean effort for kyungsoo to tear his eyes away. "so, what's it say?"

kyungsoo looks down at the piece of paper in his fingers and licks his lips. "well, it's in english, for starters. i assume it says we're married."

chanyeol snorts and stands up, rounds the bed and crawls onto the left side, hugging a pillow to his chest. he looks up at kyungsoo— whose fingers tighten around the piece of paper a little— and holds up a hand.

"give it here, then," he says, his words tilting a bit into a question in the end. "we'll use the translator app thingy," chanyeol continues, in that same tone, more like he's asking rather than telling kyungsoo to come over to the bed— which is _not_ what he's asking, it isn't, it _can't_ be—and yet kyungsoo's mind flashes with scenes from the night before, chanyeol spread out on the sheets, the jut of his hips and the shine of his lips as kyungsoo stumbled out of the bathroom, that indecent smirk of his as he said, _come on, kyungsoo, come here_ , and that fucking tilt to his voice, half an order and half a plea.

kyungsoo cannot _deal_.

"okay," kyungsoo says, slowly, and makes his way over, carefully taking a seat on the right side of the bed; he hands chanyeol the certificate and tries not to make a sound when their fingers brush.

he fails, but only a little.

-

they're very married. like, unless the app is fucking with them, chanyeol and kyungsoo are _very_ married, in all fifty states and then some.

chanyeol makes pained noises every time they come across the word and kyungsoo is trying really hard not to find it hilarious but the more it happens, the less it works.

in the end, chanyeol demands "why the hell are you laughing at me?!", cheeks pink, while kyungsoo holds his stomach and nearly falls off the side of the bed laughing.

when he calms down enough to speak, he says, "i just can't believe it. i just fucking _can't_."

"what?"

kyungsoo waves a hand dismissively between them. "i can't believe _we_ are _married_."

chanyeol makes a tiny offended sound. "excuse me?"

"i mean," kyungsoo shrugs, still trying to keep his laughter in check. why is he laughing? he's finally broken, this whole thing has finally driven kyungsoo mad. "i mean, look at us. _us_. it's— i am married to _you_."

"i resent that," chanyeol says, folding his arms over his chest. he narrows his eyes. like it's supposed to be scary. he adds, "i'm a fucking catch, alright."

kyungsoo huffs another peal of laughter and dares to look chanyeol in the eye. "i didn't say you weren't, chanyeol."

"then why are you saying— whatever it is you're saying?" there's a soft shade of pink on chanyeol's cheeks as he says this and kyungsoo has to literally sit on his hands to stop them from reaching out and—

kyungsoo shakes his head. shrugs again. "i wasn't trying to offend you. it's just— it's all so fucked up. i mean, it's _us_. this shouldn't be happening to _us_."

chanyeol laughs humorlessly. "tell me about it."

they stay quiet while watching a bit of tv, neither really focusing enough to understand what's going on on the screen. kyungsoo stares at the certificate sitting between them on the bed covers and is disappointed when it doesn't burst into flames by sheer force of mind.

after a while, movement catches his peripheral vision. chanyeol's knee is shaking anxiously. and then he's biting at the corner of his thumb, almost catching on the nail already, and kyungsoo tsks his tongue.

"stop that," he says.

"don't tell me what to do," chanyeol says testily, thumb still in his mouth, knee shaking harder than before.

kyungsoo purses his lips. "fine, bleed to death then."

chanyeol scoffs. "ugh, shut up."

"no, _you_ shut up."

silence. and then kyungsoo can't fucking help it anymore, he just starts laughing, _again_ , there are tears at the corners of his eyes he's laughing so hard. he falls back into the pillows and rolls onto his side so his stomach doesn't hurt as bad.

oh god, he can't breathe now.

chanyeol sputters at him, looking down with a frown. "what the fuck, kyungsoo, why are you laughing now — i fucking hate you, i swear —" he says it with a smile, though, a tired one, like he's finally catching on with the reality of this — this moment right here.

"baekhyun was right," kyungsoo breathes. he sighs. "that asshole."

chanyeol laughs through his nose, leaning back against the headboard. he fixes kyungsoo with a look. "we've been married for years, huh?"

"yeah, so it seems."

it's chanyeol's turn to laugh till there are tears in his eyes. kyungsoo can't find it in himself to mind.

-

they're discussing what to have for dinner— because talking is a thing they do now that the tension has lifted (somewhat) and the day is coming to an end— when yixing and jongdae finally appear.

baekhyun comes back into their room to deliver the news, drops on the space between chanyeol and kyungsoo and sighs deeply. "so, my men, all crisis have been averted tonight. jongdae and yixing were passed out in a room that, suspiciously, yixing had paid for before we went out drinking." he squints. "that's real shady of him."

kyungsoo pokes at him with a toe. "don't be mean."

there's a knock on the door and chanyeol grunts as he gets up to answer and let the food waltz in.

"anyway," baekhyun continues, "i talked to seunghyun like ten minutes ago? he's got your _situation_ mostly under control, said he was about to talk to some judge." he gets up— knees kyungsoo in the ribs, somehow— and goes to steal some of chanyeol's food. "hey, you're welcome to room with me if things are too awkward here, you know."

chanyeol looks up from his food to baekhyun and then to kyungsoo and then back at baekhyun. "what—"

"well, since seunghyun will deal with it you're no longer stuck here. my room's a double, bed's yours if you want it."

"it's not— no, i'll stay here." chanyeol gets his plate and sits at the tiny table, shrugging half-heartedly. not that kyungsoo is looking because he's suddenly very interested in keeping up with the kardashians. there's, uh, a lot to keep up with over there.

"o...kay," baekhyun says slowly, looking from chanyeol to kyungsoo, who just throws a nasty glare his way before he can say anything to him. baekhyun turns to chanyeol again, " _oh_ , so this is probably your last night as a married couple and you wanna make it count, huh— ow, damn it, chanyeol, that fucking _hurt_ —"

baekhyun leaves with five tiny bruises on his shoulder where chanyeol poked him a bit too hard with his fork, but thankfully he leaves quietly and with not much fuss.

five minutes after that, jongin texts kyungsoo _hey u can sleep here if u want, bh told us what happened its alright man it couldve been worse i guess?? anywhooo offer stands text me back b4 i fall asleep_.

kyungsoo types _nah, it's alright. at least it's chanyeol on that certificate and not, say, you_.

_well fuck u ver y much kyungsoo i take it back ur no longer welcome in my bed i hope the certificate sTICKS FORVER U ASSWIPE ok gnite ilu_

kyungsoo chuckles at his phone and joins chanyeol at the table when he asks, "hey, aren't you gonna have dinner? can i have your grilled mushrooms? pretty please?" before the asshole steals said mushrooms.

-

all that afternoon momentum flies out the window when seunghyun texts a _you're no longer married congratulations car leaves at 9 on the dot dont be late or i swear to jESUS_ to the both of them a bit after midnight. it's like the tension is turned on to full capacity and then a few notches up.

kyungsoo brushes his teeth with such _anxiety_ while chanyeol tinkers around in the room by himself, the door firmly shut between them. things have been weird since their manager's text; chanyeol had cleared his throat and gotten off the bed, mumbled about making a call and stepped off into the hallway. kyungsoo had tried very hard not to ask _what the fuck_ out loud. he'd watched tv for a while and fifteen minutes later, chanyeol had walked back in, muttered a "hey," and headed to the bathroom to "get ready for bed 'casue i'm fucking exhausted."

that had been around thirty minutes ago. now, kyungsoo stares at himself in the mirror and wonders why things are feeling so weird when this is exactly what should've happened. their drunken mistake has been fixed. they should be celebrating. (without drinks, though.)

he spits into the bowl and shakes himself.

"whatever," he mutters.

the room is dark except for the tv when he walks back in. chanyeol's on his side of the bed, comforter pulled up to his chin. his eyes are fixed on the tv and kyungsoo would very much like to punch him— why, he has no idea. it's a common occurrence around chanyeol. he should be used to it by now.

kyungsoo rounds the room and gets into bed in just his boxers and a t-shirt, leaves his phone at the bedside table and makes sure to put his alarm because he does not want to drive their poor manager into an early grave. chanyeol moves around a little, fluffs up his pillow and then burrows under the comforter again. kyungsoo fluffs up his on pillow and lies down, staring at the ceiling while clutching at the comforter and pulling it up to his chest.

chanyeol throws the covers halfway off himself and settles his hands on his stomach. "did we fuck up, kyungsoo?"

there's a foot of distance between them, and kyungsoo has never been one for intimacy, but it feels like one foot too many. he folds an arm under his head.

kyungsoo shrugs. "seunghyun took care of it, don't worry."

and then:

"so, did i really promise to get you a nice ring?"

kyungsoo doesn't choke on his own tongue but it's a close call. damn chanyeol and his ability to do this— to turn kyungsoo into a choking, heart-beating-out-of-his-chest mess out of fucking nowhere. he clears his throat and turns his head a little to get a glimpse off chanyeol, lights from the tv playing softly across his face.

"yes, you did," kyungsoo answers.

"huh," chanyeol says, and kyungsoo looks at him through the corner of his eye again. he looks pensive, like he's trying to recall saying the words but not really wanting to, either. kyungsoo wonders if he's trying to remember _how_ and _when_ he said it, if he actually remembers saying it while kyungsoo had a hand around his dick and his mouth on chanyeol's, too much tongue and teeth between them and not enough space for words left.

kyungsoo almost wants to remind him. _almost_. he licks his lips.

bolder than he actually feels, he nudges chanyeol under the blankets. "you already got me one years ago, so. don't worry."

"did we fuck up, though," chanyeol clears his throat, adds: "i mean, us— you and me." kyungsoo doesn't know what to say so he says nothing. chanyeol goes on, "i mean, we were— before, right? we were good. weren't we?"

kyungsoo debates whether to turn onto his side and watch the emotions going through chanyeol's face or diligently staying put and stare at the tv across the room. he licks his lips and turns his head to the side a little. chanyeol is staring at the tv, fingers fidgeting on top of his stomach. his shirt has rucked up a little. also?

he's still wearing the ring. which, like, so is kyungsoo. what the fuck does it all mean, honestly.

it's weird to lie in bed like this, considering they had sex last night, and the last time they did this— this quiet, just-laying-together thing— was back when they were younger and dumber than they are right now.

"we were," he says. "still are, i think," he mutters, more to himself than to chanyeol. "it's just... shit happens. wasn't your fault. wasn't mine. sometimes stuff just happens." like hectic agendas and too many sleepless nights. kyungsoo knows this. except there's a huge gap between knowing and accepting something. he's hovering somewhere above those two, not quite in the middle most days.

chanyeol doesn't say anything else.

-

kyungsoo has finally lost the battle against his own mind and is lying on his side, facing chanyeol who's still watching tv and flicking aimlessly through the channels when it happens. he's halfway under already, pillow soft and warm under his cheek, and then chanyeol— the _actual_ fucker— says,

"you know what, kyungsoo, fuck it. _fuck it_. i still— i _still_ , okay. feelings, i still have feelings for you. i'm just gonna put it out there. whatever. oh, hey, look, _kitchen nightmares_ is on."

kyungsoo's eyes are wide open in two seconds, his heart beating oddly in his chest, and what the fuck— _what the fuck_ , how dare him. how dare chanyeol do this? the bed covers are too warm and kyungsoo's blood is getting warmed under his skin, because he can't do this, chanyeol can't do this, and kyungsoo has been trying _so_ _damn hard_ to not read into anything today and chanyeol's gone and fucked up his carefully constructed work.

chanyeol turns up the volume and runs a non-stop commentary on whatever's happening on tv, commercials included, and all the while all kyungsoo can think of is how much he wants to kiss this fucker and maybe slap him a little because they _agreed_ , they _shook_ on it, to never put their friendship at risk (again) and let things go easily.

kyungsoo can't focus on anything, can't even hear his own thoughts, and chanyeol's babbling isn't helping.

"kitchen— my mom always uses that purple product to clean it up, it smells kinda like lavender but also like apples? it's totally weird, man, i just—"

kyungsoo props himself up on an elbow, leans across the empty space between them, and holds chanyeol's chin to tilt his head this way and, fucking finally, silence, because how is chanyeol supposed to talk nonsense if his mouth is busy licking into kyungsoo's.

much, _much_ better.

-

they're not fucking around this time. mostly because kyungsoo is still pissed off his fucking ass and chanyeol apparently has been sitting on some truths and now's his time to get it all out. he knees kyungsoo's thighs open and fits himself in the space there, pins kyungsoo to the bed, hands above his head, and kisses him until kyungsoo is lightheaded and they're both shaking, sucks on his tongue and rocks his hips so good kyungsoo feels tight all over.

chanyeol lets go of his hands and kyungsoo uses the opportunity to curl his fingers in chanyeol's hair, tug a little and make chanyeol's hips stutter off rhythm, his mouth pulling off kyungsoo's for a second.

chanyeol rolls his tongue over kyungsoo's lower lip, tugs on it with his teeth and kyungsoo can't help the frankly embarrassing sound he makes. he pulls away— kyungsoo _whines_ , what the fuck, and starts pulling his shirt off, "off, off, come on." he groans when the thing is off and out of sight, probably on the floor. kyungsoo tugs on his own shirt and nearly elbows chanyeol in the eye, which is still totally worth it for the tiny groan chanyeol lets out when kyungsoo pushes his ass directly over chanyeol's crotch.

chanyeol closes in, noses at the underside of kyungsoo's jaw, puts his lips, teeth and tongue there, one of his hands tracing the skin from the base of kyungsoo's throat to the hem of his boxers, feather-like and making him shiver and simultaneously rock harder against chanyeol's hips.

the fucker has the nerve to groan a, "ugh, i hate you." the audacity.

the way he's moving his hips could make kyungsoo come just like this, in his fucking pants like a damn teenager while chanyeol ruts against him. if he weren't wearing boxers and chanyeol weren't wearing sweatpants he'd be sliding the tip of his cock across kyungsoo's hole, and just the thought of it— of chanyeol fucking him into the mattress, chanyeol pinning him down and fucking him blind, deaf and mute has him clenching his thighs around chanyeol's hips to pull him closer.

"you know," chanyeol breathes somewhere in between kyungsoo's collarbones and left nipple, "i remember most of last night. bits and pieces here and there."

"do you, now." kyungsoo shoves a hand in between them, trying to (ineffectively) tug chanyeol's boxers off. chanyeol chuckles, low and dirty against kyungsoo's sternum, before sitting up and pulling away.

kyungsoo stays where he is, spread open and breathless on the bed, chest heaving and the glistening tip of his cock nearly poking out the hem of his boxers, where chanyeol's fingers were just seconds ago. he locks eyes with him, who's just watching him with a flush on his face that's steadily spreading down his throat and across his clavicles, and hooks his thumbs over the hem of his underwear, starts shoving down.

"convenient," he breathes, and lets chanyeol pull his pants the rest of the way off.

chanyeol licks his lips and ducks to kiss the inside of kyungsoo's thigh before moving away and taking his pants off, too. he crawls back into kyungsoo's space wearing nothing but that flush, cock hard and wet at the tip, and kyungsoo reaches for him automatically. chanyeol settles in like time hasn't stopped, like he knows exactly where to press himself against to make kyungsoo's stomach tighten with heat, rocks in and nearly bends kyungsoo in half, his cock sliding tight and perfect behind kyungsoo's balls, and kyungsoo moans, moans so loud he kinda scares himself, nails digging into chanyeol's back.

"why's that," chanyeol asks, elbows at either side of kyungsoo's head. his mouth is right there, so fucking close and yet so goddamn far away and kyungsoo runs short nails down his back to grip his ass, makes him shudder and rock harder, his mouth falling open and closer and easier to lick into.

he fucks his tongue into chanyeol's mouth in time with chanyeol's tiny thrusts, buries a hand in his hair to keep him there, to tilt his head to the side and lick deeper in, until chanyeol's gasping for breath and clutching at kyungsoo's hips to steady his own.

"'cause i won't have to give you instructions," kyungsoo says, his lips— swollen, tingly— pulling into a smirk.

chanyeol moans at the back of his throat, fucking indecent, and kyungsoo grins wider.

(kyungsoo comes with his teeth on chanyeol's shoulder, eyes clenched shut and his dick untouched. chanyeol's curled their fingers together and pinned his hands above his head— again, always, kyungsoo doesn't mind— his mouth is on kyungsoo's ear and he's whispering, he's begging, he's asking kyungsoo to come, _please_ , _just come, come on, come for me, just like this, come for me just like this, kyungsoo_ , and kyungsoo comes from that alone, can't fucking believe how hard he comes and how long it takes to wind down, and then when chanyeol comes, his dick sliding wet and easy along the mess kyungsoo's just made and he whispers kyungsoo's name like he's dying, it's like he comes _again_ , and chanyeol's eyes get wide, so fucking wide, and he smirks, reaches down and sneaks a hand in between them, wraps clammy fingers around kyungsoo's cock— the hand with the wedding ring— and milks it like never before and it's so good kyungsoo stops breathing for a million years.)

-

no one looks at them weird over breakfast the next morning. yixing is wearing shades and is studiously avoiding everyone and jongdae is wearing a scarf. with a tank top.

kyungsoo doesn't even think of asking.

chanyeol sticks to him during breakfast (and earlier, during his shower) and through the whole ordeal that is getting out of the hotel and into the bus that'll get them to the airport.

"we didn't fuck up that much, did we?" chanyeol asks out loud. he's sitting next to kyungsoo near the last couple of benches.

sehun snorts. "' _we_ ', he says. like we all went and got married. or disappeared into unassigned rooms. the nerve."

everyone ignores him. jongdae throws something at him but kyungsoo can't see what.

"i mean, our phones aren't ringing with threats, so i guess it could've gone a lot worse, right," chanyeol says. he nudges kyungsoo in the ribs. "we could've gotten matching tattoos. _that_ would've done it. matching _gang_ tattoos."

"next year, maybe," kyungsoo smirks, nudging back.

chanyeol grins slowly behind his sunglasses. "best trip ever."

**Author's Note:**

> 1) getting married in vegas doesn't work like this (i googled how it works, obviously) so don't trust my word on it  
> 2) titled after tinashe's 'feels like vegas' which, honestly speaking, inspired this whole thing idk why it's just a very sexy song  
> 3) i gotta admit this escaped my control 1k in, was supposed to be very light like, pg-13 at most, idk what happened i apologize


End file.
